


Hold On

by bassnotbass



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas aint having it, Cas is a badass, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Maybe destiel maybe brotherly love, dean/cas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:06:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7833220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bassnotbass/pseuds/bassnotbass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are missing. Castiel searched the world over, including heaven and hell, and there was no trace of them. He'd use the pull of his grace that was still a part of Dean to try to find him, but it was to no avail. That piece of him was gone. So he sat and waited for word. Of any clue to their whereabouts. For the second time in his life he says, "hold on. Hold for a little longer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue

Sat at the table where he watched them eat countless times, Castiel drummed his fingers along the top. He was lost in thought as he waited, and somewhat absentmindedly he realizes its such a human thing to do. Yet another item added to the Winchester list. 

Castiel had decided long ago that humans, especially these two particular humans, were infinitely complex. While he was still learning about human life, although living through it for a brief stint definitely taught him much, there seemed to be a distinct lack of knowledge on his part. The choice of freedom and rebellion gave an infinite amount of possible scenarios in which path to take. And the Winchesters have always managed to find a path that he could not begin to dream of. The sheer majority of their actions spurred him to create a mental folder, if you will. A catalogue of the nuances of these men and things he still didn't understand along with things he knew to be truths. Three folders held the lives of these men: Dean, Sam, and Winchester. The truths were rather simple and mundane. Dean loves pie. Sam loves books. Dean loves whiskey. Sam loves salads. If Castiel stumbled across a truth for both of them, it was filed away in the Winchester folder, ie-high water pressure. But to his dismay, there was much tucked into these folders that he had yet to comprehend. Him. An angel of the lord being stumped by two humans created by his Father's hand. 

There was a time where this simple truth bothered him to no end. It pushed his limits, made him question his directive, made him realize things that could be considered sacrilege. It was not so long ago for Castiel where he watched a man who went by Moses stumble his way down a mountain carrying with him his Father's words. 'Thou shalt have no other gods before me.' Was it irony then, that an angel was cast out of heaven for choosing to place two men before God? The same two men who placed their brother before everyone else, especially God. Castiel quit asking these questions long ago. The answer seemed unattainable and relatively miniscule in relation to the lives of these men.

There was also a time where this was simpler. A time where he had put in his bid for a rescue mission. The eldest son of Mary and John Winchester. He watched the life of a tiny human all play out according to plan. A tiny little thing that would become Michael's vessel. A beautiful soul that shined so brightly it could be picked out of the thousands of other in a blink of an eye. But free will unleashed her magic. Dean had done the unimaginable and traded his soul for his brother's life. Every angel watched with bated breath as hellhounds ravaged his body and brought his soul to hell. Castiel remembered wondering if there was an angel in heaven that he would selflessly give his life for. The lack of answer was worrisome. 

So he watched Dean as the angels debated. He watched day in and day out how Dean was tortured. How Dean broke and started torturing himself. How Dean's soul warped and became darker. He heard every cry, every bite of the blade as if it was his own. He watched as the youngest Winchester fight to bring back his brother. He watched as darkness enveloped Dean and twist his soul into something almost unrecognizeable. Almost. The Winchesters are nothing but stubborn and he would learn no truer words in the days to come. But Dean's soul was still there, under all the black marred parts he could still the the brilliant gold underneath. It no longer shimmered and shined like it did while he was alive. It was beaten and bruised and tucked in itself, cowering under the weight. But it was still there, for now. Castiel would whisper 'hold on. Hold for a little longer.' 

The day that Uriel came to him was the pivotal moment of his life. His duty as an angel and his duty to guard mankind lay on each end balancing each other out on either end of the fulcrum. But Castiel couldn't have known that as soon as mankind was taken off the other end and was replaced by Dean Winchester, the lever tilted under Dean's weight. That soon Dean was the one that Castiel would choose time and again. That above all, Castiel will always choose Dean. Uriel uttered the words that would forever change him, "go brother, you have been chosen to save Dean Winchester."

Castiel tore through heaven into the bowels of hell. Demons fought him along the way. He was covered in their blood, slashing through the hordes, making his way, inch by precious inch to Dean. These were the longest moments of his life. His wings scorched and battered, blood running in rivulets off his body, he fought an endless battle all the way down to the Pit. When he finally got there, Dean's soul cowered away and fought against him but he could see the hope there. He could see the yearning to leave. And he ignored the fighting soul and gripped it tight. Pushing his way back out of hell he tightened his hold on Dean. Once he finally broke the surface of earth, Castiel immediately cradled the exhausted and still struggling soul in his arms. He used his grace to push into the soul, past all the damage, to make sure at least some of it was still intact. To feel the righteous man's soul for himself. Even though he knew he shouldn't.

It seemed like Hester was wrong. It wasn't when he laid a hand on Dean that he was lost. It was his first true experience of human emotion. It was that reach into Dean's soul. It was the feeling of that battered soul, slowly, tentatively brush against his grace. It was the intense wash of relief and joy that he felt to his very core. Dean's soul started to heal in the prescence of his grace. It hummed underneath and started to come to life. Suddenly his soul wrapped itself around Castiel's grace. The shock of it was electric. Castiel has only used his grace for harm and Dean's soul wrapping around it felt like a caress of wind on a hot day. The beautiful soul underneath the scarring, that still glistened like the dawning sun over the sea. In his elation, Castiel lifted his voice to the heavens and shouted, "Dean Winchester is saved".

Castiel sighed as he released his memories. This felt a whole lot like that time. Where he watched Dean in hell and echoes of his screams were all that Castiel could hear. Except this time there was nothing but deafening silence. No. This was worse. The not knowing was worse. Sam and Dean are missing. Castiel searched the world over, including heaven and hell, and there was no trace of them. He'd use the pull of his grace that was still a part of Dean to try to find him, but it was to no avail. That piece of him was gone. So he sat and waited for word. Of any clue to their whereabouts. For the second time in his life he says, "hold on. Hold for a little longer."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas searches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long for me to write this but I knew that the updates were going to be sporadic. I'm sorry.

Castiel shifted slightly in his seat, biding his time. His phone remained stubbornly silent beside his hand. While he preferred silence to most things on earth, this silence was crawling under his skin. Tension pulled his vessel's muscles taut and made the seconds draw ever so agonizingly out. Standing, Castiel stretches out the muscles and lets his wings push out to their very limits. He shakes them around a bit to loosen those since they were almost vibrating with tension.

His phone made a short bell noise signaling a text message. Being careful not to smash it in his haste he opens up the message.

'Nothing.'

One word. Castiel closes his eyes in desperation and rage and the tension he just let loose all comes flooding back ten fold. 'Find them Crowley.' He texts back.

Sam and Dean have been missing for three days. Dropped off the face of the earth. While the hunters not checking in is nothing new, Castiel knew something was wrong. His suspicions were correct when he found Dean's car in an empty rest stop with the keys still in the ignition. They had to be taken. Castiel would've known had either of the Winchesters died and went to heaven or hell. While he didn't fully trust Crowley he believed he was telling the truth when he claimed ignorance on their whereabouts. 

Crowley had long since given up on trying to cause harm on the Winchesters. Castiel suspected it had something to do with the time that Dean was a demon, but currently Crowley was trying to patch hell back together after Lucifer had made a mess of things. 

There was nothing left to do but wait. Castiel teleports outside to an abandoned barn, desperate to be away from the place that felt like a tomb without the two brothers. Waiting on the roof he keeps searching, keeps pulling in with his grace. Listening for any clue that would lead him to Dean.

It was never this hard. Castiel knew Dean's voice better than anyone he's ever known. Dean was...loud. When he called out or prayed, his voice broke above the rest. Much like his soul. Castiel thought that it may have been his connection with Dean that allowed him to be so attuned. But as time went on, he began to question that. Dean's prayers broke through many moments that Castiel wouldn't have known, Naomi, leviathan, even when he was in purgatory and Dean got out. He couldn't make out anything that Dean said during those times. He felt it though. He could sense Dean as well as he could sense his own grace.

Castiel reclined on the pitched roof of the barn. Its was a clear night, stars and moon shining brilliantly in the sky. Hours passed before Castiel felt something. It was almost nothing. A barely there whisper of feeling. But Castiel felt it like it grabbed him around the neck and squeezed. Going still he waited, holding his breath. Again a tiny shock to his grace. Immediately Castiel reached with his grace and grabbed onto this lifeline. He struggled to trace it. It kept slipping from his fingers. There were many times that he lost the connection and had to start over but he was making some progress.

Castiel didn't know how long he spent on that roof reaching out to Dean. He was so focused that he didn't feel the rain soaking him through, or the lightning and thunder dancing above his head. He didn't feel the wind ripping at his trenchcoat billowing it savagely behind him. All that mattered was Dean.

The weak connection worried him. Dean was hurt badly. He knew that much. But how badly was the question. Castiel knew that this could be because of Dean sleeping. Dean had done that a few times before. He would have a nightmare and subconsciously reach out for Castiel. Castiel would feel Dean and rush to him, just in case. Dean would always be upset that he was there again. But Castiel never let him know that he was only there because Dean called him. He didn't think that was a piece of information that would be welcomed by the hunter.

Abruptly the connection broke. Castiel's grace casted about trying to feel the last threads of it, but it was gone. Castiel holds his breath hoping that it would come back. When it became apparent that the connection was truly lost, Castiel brings his grace back into his vessel. Only then did he feel the terrible storm around him. But he only really felt the cold of the rain run down underneath the collar of his shirt. Castiel was beginning to become hopeless. He screamed his frustration at the sky.

He hasn't spoken to heaven in quite some time and has all but severed the connection. But in his desperation to find Sam and Dean he reopens that part of him that he closed long ago to impart a warning. A warning for anyone listening in heaven.

The angels stopped as they listened to Castiel's message. They cast worried glances at each other. They felt when Castiel closed the connection and heaven stood still for the first time since the righteous man went to hell. Silence reigned and it was a good amount of time before heaven regained it's chatter. Castiel's words weighed heavy on their minds and a hush had fallen over all angels. It was almost like heaven didn't dare speak.

"Brothers and sisters, hear this. Sam and Dean Winchester have been taken and hidden from me. I will not rest until they are found. If you know where they are, bring me to them. If you have them...I will rip your grace from you and cast you from heaven. I'll tear out your throat, and break off every miniscule bone in your wings so they'll never grow back. The only sound you'll ever make again is your blood dripping in hell. This is my promise."

*****************

Soon after his message to heaven Cas sought out Crowley. The king of hell lounged quietly at his dinner table nursing whatever scotch in his glass. 

Cas studied him from across the table. His eyes were tired, the skin sagging around them. The rest of his body was relaxed in a weird juxtaposition from the stress currently contorting his face. Cas almost envies the comfort the scotch seems to give.

Crowley takes another drink of his scotch and raises an eyebrow under Cas's stare. "That was quite a threat earlier. Well done giraffe."

Cas levels his gaze surprised that Crowley knew, "I meant it."

"I know," Crowley lets his finger tap against his glass, "I didn't think you had it in you." Crowley studies Cas's profile. The angel was stiff, his grace all but bubbling underneath the surface.

"What?"

"I wonder" Crowley drawls out, "if you truly meant your threat, which I believe you did, why is it this time that you choose to act?" 

Cas tilts his head at Crowley's words. "I don't understand."

"I think you do." Crowley searches Cas's face for any kind of understanding. Not seeing any, he sighs. "Dean has been tortured before, was killed, hell even turned into a demon. This is relatively tame compared to those times. Yet you choose this time to threaten all life if he's not returned. Why? What have you realized angel?"

Cas's breath quickens. Staring at Crowley's smug face he says the only logical thing he could think of. "Our father is gone now. Who knows when he'll return. If Dean dies, he's got reapers waiting to grab him any chance they get. I'm afraid I won't be able to bring him back."

"And there's the crux. Because it was never humanity, it was always and will always be Dean."

Cas frowns, "the righteous man-"

"Cut the shit Castiel," Crowley interrupts. "One of these days, he'll find out. He realize it and he'll bury it deep down inside. Not because you're a man. But because you're an angel. He'll never allow himself to accept that from you." Crowley leans over the table to Cas. "He's lost himself, angel, and no matter how many times you save him, or he saves you, he will only allow himself to love you as he does Sam. Nothing more."

The doors burst open as Crowley sits back. A demon is carrying a body of his shoulder. "I thought you may want to see this."

Cas stands and sees the vessels eyes burned out. The body has been cut to shreds but across the arms there are numbers carved into the flesh. Crowley grabs the arms to move them closer to the light, but the body's so brittle that the left arm snaps off. Crowley scrunches his nose, "could've done without that."

Cas rolls his eyes and grabs the severed arm from Crowley, "48.5711N".

Crowley tilts his head looking at the other arm, "97.1778W".

Cas drops the arm on the floor, "Drayton, North Dakota." Cas grabs Crowley's arm, "you're coming."

Crowley shrugs out of the angel's grip and straightens his suit. "I've got my own set of wings, angel."

"Fine. Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm doing the Destiel thing even though I swore I wouldn't. It may not be flagrant or it may be, who knows. But it's there.

**Author's Note:**

> I may have lied about sticking to one-shots. I desperately needed a story about Cas unleashing his badassery all over the place. So I've started writing one. What else would make Cas lose his shit other than someone taking Sam and Dean?


End file.
